Fearing Paperwork
by OkitaRin
Summary: She was known as the Otaria Secondo; daughter to the Otaria Primo; the calm, composed and steely second mafia boss of the Otaria Famiglia, yet to anyone who really knew her, she was Harukawa Fuyane, the smiley, if not somewhat childish woman, with a love for chocolate and a fear for paperwork. (Future Fic. OC centric)
1. The Otaria Famiglia

**Disclaimer: I do not own KHR or any of its characters. I only own my OCs.**

**So hi! Welcome and I hope you enjoy the read.**

* * *

Somewhere in Italy, near one of the busier parts, was a place seldom visited but known to the average civilian, a ways into the leafy greens of the nature bordering the nearest town. It wasn't particularly beautiful there, nor was there some amazing, spectacular thing that drew the people's interest. No, it was known as the site of large, very large and undeniably gloomy-looking manor that was often referred to as the _Otaria_ Manor.

To the average civilian, the _Otaria_ Manor was home to the Head of the _Otaria_ Corporation, a small and yet still unknown company flourishing in the manufacturing industry through their mass productions of children's toys. They were recognizable by their symbol- the dark shadow of a playful sea lion swimming loops in front of their emblem, washed over in pale blue.

Yet unknown to the average civilian, the _Otaria_ Mansion was also the home and headquarters to comparatively small number of _Mafioso_ and hired staff working under the _Otaria Famiglia_, a small mafia group founded decades and decades ago by the first _Otaria_ Head, who, believe it or not, used to be a zookeeper. Currently, it was led by his only daughter, a woman in her mid-twenties who took after her mother's surname.

Harukawa Fuyane. Not much was known about her or the _Otaria Famiglia_ that she led. If perchance, their names were ever mentioned in the underground, only a select few would nod their heads whilst the majority will look up with disguised confusion as they imagine the graceful sea creature that the family was named for.

Grace. Beauty. Strength. Charisma. The _Otaria_ _Famiglia_ was named for these attributes of the great sea lion, the favored animal of the _Otaria Primo's_ first wife. Traditionally, they've been small and unknown and they've stayed that way, slowly building up their resources and stocks of poison and drugs and wealth. The previous Head had always spoke strongly about pride and independence and intimidation and their need to flaunt what they have, but this was disagreed strongly by the _Otaria Secondo_ who believed in alliances, and trusted more easily, preferring to stay low in the underground.

She was admired by the lower-ranked members - for her calm, open nature and the rumors of how she had wrangled the head position from her prideful father, how she fought against her half-brothers and won by a hair. They say that at her best, she was just as beautiful and as commandingly charismatic as the great animal her _Famiglia_ was named for.

Her acquaintances question this.

* * *

**_Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn_**

**_Fearing Paperwork_**

**_Chapter One: The Otaria Famiglia_**

* * *

It was early evening that a grown woman found herself cowering and hunched under the small, dank space, long fingers crossed so tightly that they paled in the shadows. Creased was her white button-down shirt, her tie mangled. Her dark, loose hair fell over her shoulder in a small messy braid that was coming undone at the tips.

"Second."

The lights switched on abruptly, its yellowness pooling across the carpet and reaching the tips of her cringing toes. The rustle of dark steps crept closer and she could just imagine the black, polished shoes and the pitch helm of fabric draping over the hints of solid white sock. It stopped abruptly and from his tone, she just_ knew_ that he had that contemptuous expression patched neatly across his porcelain features, the one that made him just a little more attractive than he already was.

"How pitiful."

She remained silent, hoping, _wishing_ him to go away. _I'm not here. I'm not here_. She thought frantically, digging her painted fingers into the crown of her head amongst her mussed up black locks. She half-considered leaping out the convenient window, but she knew it'll fail miserably, like how the last hundred attempts failed in their own little miserable ways.

"I know you are here, Second. Come out." His smooth Japanese was like an echo in an nightmare and she squeezed her eyes shut. Oh god, she could already imagine that mountainous pile, one that piled up to the ceiling and flooded over the floor in a sea of white and inky debris. Last time was absolutely _traumatizing_, no kidding-

"Oh? Here we are." The footsteps stopped meticulously. Her breathing hitched. This was _not_ happening. But one brave eye peeked open and to her distraught, there they were- the pair of perfect and polished shoes spaced evenly apart on her pristine caramel carpet. "Good evening, Second."

His voice was deep, smooth and deadly.

"I trust you've had a good time playing cat and mouse?"

Her breath hitched again. There was really no way she could escape now.

"Leave me alone, Saiichi." She began calmly, her façade intact as she stalked out from under the desk, as if she hadn't just been hiding under her own desk like some lowly coward. "I've been busy."

"Second-"

"And why must you _insist_ on calling me Second?" She snapped around, her expression haughty and features scrunched up unnecessarily and dramatized. "The proper term's _Secondo_. Use it."

Saiichi chuckled. Fuyane-san would always be Second to him. The use of _Secondo_ seemed far too formal, as if he was addressing her father instead of her, Fuyane-san.

"Don't chuckle at me."

"I do believe you have some paperwork to attend to?" Saiichi inquired loftily, hands in pockets, his dark fringe cut jagged in one eye as it always had been.

"No." The woman replied immediately, her head held high. "No. Not a chance. Get one of your lackeys to do it."

The man smiled- a real smile and scratched a cheek, slender fingers flipping efficiently through his files. "But they all require the signature of the _Otaria Secondo_. Are you not the _Otaria Secondo_?"

"I'm not doing it." The _Otaria Secondo_ snapped, her face ablaze with undisguised horror. "Last time traumatized me enough thank you very much-"

"But there are details of an alliance in that pile-" Saiichi cut her off, his smile still in place as serene as ever.

"A pile? Pile?" The woman huffed. "Now isn't that an understatement…"

"-and I think it'll best if you look over it personally. It's with the _Vongola_\- something that will be sure to boost our Family's meagre standing if the alliance is successful. "

"_Vongola_ huh? Impressive, Saiichi." Fuyane sighed tiredly, motioning towards her right-hand man to sit. He didn't though. "If I'm not wrong, most of the major Families are already allied with them. Their Tenth boss is pretty charismatic from what I hear."

"Would you like a personal meeting with the Tenth _Vongola_ Boss?"

"Very much. I would like to see what kind of a mafia boss he is." She chuckled abruptly, motioning for the second time for the younger man to sit down. He complied. "After all, the ladies do say he's quite a looker."

"Oh really?" Saiichi commented offhandedly, his uniquely-shaped pen out and twirling lithely about his fingers. "Then I shall arrange a meeting to a day available in your schedule."

"Thanks Saiichi." Fuyane stretched, plopping down onto a beige couch adjacent to his. "Chocolate?" She offered, her eyes curved as she smiled.

Her right-hand man only looked at the candy bar in disdain. "I'll pass."

"Well. Can't say I didn't offer." Fuyane muttered as she took a mouthwatering bite, eyelids fluttering closed in bliss.

Saiichi scrutinized his boss with critical, violet eyes, one of which was hidden behind his curtain of a fringe. "Second." He began in an almost grave manner. "I hope you realize that I didn't go to all this trouble of coaxing you out of your cowardly stupor just to persuade you to do your job as the second head of this Family."

The woman froze mid-bite, a shiver running up her spine at the dreaded implication of her paperwork. "You… didn't?" She questioned stupidly, turning around to stare at her right-hand. "So I really _didn't_ have to face my paperwork?" She asked in realization, the awe dawning upon her features.

"I never said that." Her right-hand gave a wry smile as she hissed, twisting his posture ever so slightly as to prevent her escape if she ever decided to flee the room.

This didn't go unnoticed.

"Saiichi..." She warned warily, her cringing toes giving away her discomfort. "Okay. Spill it. What was your other motive of 'coaxing me out of my cowardly stupor'?" She quoted with her fingers.

"There was a report this morning." He replied immediately, flipping through the bundle of papers in his arms. "It seems that our resident kid genius has gotten into a bit of trouble."

Her head snapped around. "Clarif did? Again? What happened to the group I sent with him?"

"Two causalities. The rest scattered. The kid's disappeared. Missing."

There was a long contemplative pause as the mafia boss bit off another piece of chocolate.

"How long?"

"Two days."

"Two days." Fuyane deadpanned steely, her voice even and emotionless. "And that useless bunch never thought to notify me?"

"Not like you would have done much about it."

The boss clicked her tongue. "He'll always come crawling back- he's like a cockroach that one. Give it two weeks or so and _then_ I'll start worrying."

Saiichi smirked, one violet eye glinting underneath his asymmetrical fringe. "So you _do_ worry. Are you not the least worried he'll take this attempt to run away?"

"Nup." Fuyane dragged out the single syllable. "I like to think that we've grown on him after all these years."

"As he has grown on you." Her right-hand man added in his smooth tenor.

"No. Not a bit." She denied at once, shaking her head to and fro as if in disgust. "I still think he's a brat- and speaking of the brat, have you looked into his whereabouts?"

"I've sent out a team already. There have been no results."

"Really?" Fuyane lifted a thin eyebrow. "Yuni's gonna be devastated. She's really fond of that kid."

"And _you're_ really fond of her." Saiichi noted again. "Careful there. Some enemy of yours may decide to target her."

"Impossible. I have_ no_ enemies." The _Otaria Secondo_ bit off another chunk of chocolate, scoffing it down before chucking the wrapper at her right-hand man, who caught it single-handedly. "Bin this."

Saiichi narrowed his thin eyes at her. "Even if _you_ have no enemies, I'm sure you realize that your father has made _many_ enemies in the past- mafia _famiglias_ that won't hesitate to bring the _Otaria _down, to smudge out this pitifully small _Famiglia_ like the bug it is. Careful there, Second. They believe that the _Otaria_ has weakened since you've taken over."

"So these are your true thoughts… huh?" Fuyane chuckled, amused.

"If you believe them to be."

"Then it's nice of you to stick around, Saiichi." The boss smiled childishly at her right-hand man, reaching over to flick his fringe for him.

"On to other matters," Saiichi flinched away, shuffling through his papers. "I'd like to inform you that you have a quite a long meeting next Tuesday, twelve noon sharp. Make sure to sleep well the day before."

"What are you? My secretary?" She deadpanned sarcastically, leaning back to recline over the arm of her sofa. "So, what is it about?"

Saiichi rearranged a few papers. "The _Chiavarone_. They would like to go over the terms of our treaty again. Apparently, we've offended it in some way."

"Will the _Chiavarone_ Boss be there?" A hopeful tone.

"No."

Fuyane let out a small sigh. "How unfortunate. He really _is_ quite charming…"

"Don't you come gushing to me again-"

"But not my type." The woman concluded with another hearty sigh, dramatized by her hands over her heart. "And again? Really Saiichi?" She asked with an amused tone. "I've only _ever_ done it once and that was _ages_ ago. Stop holding it against me already!"

Saiichi made a small non-committal noise.

"You…" The Mafia Boss threatened wryly, holding an unopened bar of chocolate like a pistol. "So what have we offended?"

"Apparently we've attacked a rather large proportion of their allies as well as some of their men in one of your escapades."

Fuyane looked scandalized. "_My_ escapades? I _barely_ get time out of this room and you accuse _me_?"

"The gaseous drug you've been developing- my guess is that the wind probably carried some of the remnants of the last test over."

"Basically, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time…" Fuyane nodded in agreement before scoffing. "Sissies, the lot of them. Can't even deal with a bit of paralysis- Saiichi tell our people to prepare a couple batches of the antidote."

"Will do." He inclined his head slightly, his long fringe dipping down his face.

"You're dismissed." She closed her eyes, putting her legs up onto the coffee table as her right-hand man proceeded to leave the room.

"Second."

"What is it?" She asked, muffling a yawn.

Something about his tone warned her of a growing smirk. "How many times have I told you?"

"Told me what?" She asked curiously, eyes still closed.

"That you trust too easily for a mafia boss. Along with strength and charisma, a qualified mafia boss should also develop a healthy dose of suspicion, even against their own followers."

Suddenly, there was a small click, one that sounded very strangely like her only window being locked from the inside out-

"No." Her eyes snapped open, dexterous fingers already at the twin rolls of tape at each of her wrists, encircling them like some bracelet. "Saiichi. Don't you dare-"

"Good luck with your paperwork, Second." A very genuine look of amusement crossed his pale, japanese features as he looked down upon her in his small height advantage. "There's at least a build-up of half a year's worth there." He threw a suave wave and with a positively evil grin, he strode out the room, neatly dodging the roll of tape that unfurled towards his back at a frightening speed.

The door slammed, followed by a very suspicious sounding click.

"No." Fuyane deadpanned futilely and one look at the boxes- a mountain of dull, brown cardboard boxes which definitely weren't there before- all no doubt holding the very essence of her hatred- in the corner of her office had her fleeing to the door and tugging fruitlessly at the silver polished door handle, all composure gracefulness as the _Otaria Secondo_ lost in mere seconds.

"Saiichi you bastard!" She screeched with a feral snarl as she banged onto the door with manicured nails that were close to chipping, not wishing for the first time that she possessed storm-class flames instead. "You can't make me do the paperwork! I'm your boss damnit! You're supposed to obey me!"

Outside, in the comfort of an elaborate hallway, Saiichi finishes placing the last of the steel reinforcements onto his boss's door, ignoring how the door creaked and groaned under the stress it was experiencing from the other side. Blue flames leaked ominously from the gaps, licking harmlessly at the supplemented metal and he smirked under the knowledge that his boss's primary weapon was incapable of anything offensive. Her box-weapons were currently sent off to be modified.

Her muffled screeching continued. "Damnit Saiichi! You are _so dead-_"

"Pitiful little thing aren't you?" Saiichi smirked, throwing the keys to a passing servant. "Give her a week or so. Make sure her paperwork is done before her release."

"That time again?" The maid looked pityingly at the rattling door. "Poor boss. You would think she'd expected this after the last dozen of times."

"Poor boss indeed." Saiichi commented offhandedly before straightening up to head to the back to reinforce the windows before his boss could stop and think clearly to try alternative methods of escaping.

…

In the air-conditioned confines of the _Vongola_ Mansion, a brunet in his mid-twenties sat hunched, musing over the stack of paperwork from two days ago, caused by none other than his very own Mist Guardian, Rokudo Mukuro.

"Tenth."

Sawada Tsunayoshi smiled up from behind his stack of paperwork, a pen held loosely in between his fingers. "What is it, Hayato?"

"The _Otaria Secondo_ wants to arrange a personal meeting. About the alliance between _Vongola_ and _Otaria_."

"The _Otaria_?" Tsuna frowned slightly. "Who are they again?"

"Some small no-name _Famiglia_ that the Tenth doesn't need to worry about." Gokudera scoffed, plopping down onto a chair. "They're like a leech, that one- always sucking up to the stronger Families."

"What do they do?"

Gokudera peered down at his files before wrinkling his nose. "Drug trafficking and poison. They major in smuggling drugs across a quarter of the country as well as selling stocks of poison to other Mafia. They're also allied with quite a range of Families including the _Carcassa_, the _Difo_, the _Beccio_ and even the _Chiavarone_."

"Even Dino-san?" Tsuna voiced out in interest. "Although, don't our… jobs clash a little?

"They have good morals apparently." The silver-haired man scoffed again. "At least that's what _Chiavarone_ says."

"We'll see then." The _Vongola Decimo_ concluded, looking despairingly his mountain of paperwork and the files in Gokudera's hands. "And _please_ don't tell me something else was destroyed-"

Gokudera gave a rare, wry smile. "The town a few hundred kilometers over is requesting compensation for the accumulated damages of their buildings."

"I'm not even going to bother asking who…" Tsuna face-palmed slowly, metaphorical tears running down his face. "Just how much _more_ paperwork do I need to address?"

"Don't worry Tenth. It's only a stack or so…"

Gokudera trailed off as his boss's head banged soundly onto the mahogany desk.

"You might as well just lock me up with mountain load of paperwork at this rate…" Tsuna grumbled inaudibly, his words muffled into the desk.

…

Miles away, a certain female mafia boss sneezed through her despair as she huddled far into the corner, away from her half years' worth of accumulated paperwork that littered the floor, the harmless blue flames gliding over them in their pitiful attempts to burn.

"Curse it. Someone's laughing at me."

* * *

**Hello! Thanks for reading. This fanfiction will take place, not in the future arc, but the future as in after the representative battle arc. There probably will be pairings with the OC but the pairings are not concrete yet and therefore the pairing status will remain none for the time being.**

**Please continue onto the next chapter :)**


	2. Fuyane's Outing

**Date edited: 04/04/15**

**Disclaimer: I do not own KHR or its characters. **

**Warning: May contain misuse of the Italian language. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Stay calm. _

Fuyane took a breath. Staying calm was the basic foundation of her persona- after all, she was the boss of the _Otaria_. The _boss_. A locked room should be no problem. Escaping should be _easy_.

Wary, she edged a wide, careful berth around the stack of ink and paper strewn over one corner of her office space. Sunlight spilled in from the window, coloring the beige carpets bright and forming shadows where her furniture stood grand against painted white walls. There was another doorway camouflaged into the wall opposing the initial entrance, one that led directly to her adjoined bedroom. And in her bedroom was her bag, all packed and ready to go. The only problem now, was to ensure a successful escape.

A sudden pattering of steps and giggles notified her of the passing maids and she froze instinctively. Being quiet was a key here. Any squeak of a suspicious sound and they would report her in a heartbeat, knowing just how well their boss liked to avoid her paperwork. It was only a long moment later that she straightened up again to resume her escape plan.

At this time of the day, she knew exactly where her right-hand man would be- sorting out important files in the storage room one floor down. The maids would have commenced their daily duties and in exactly half an hour, her door would unlock briefly to slide in her meals for the day. From noon onwards, her subordinates would take the time to report their findings to her through the barricade of the door and at promptly two in the afternoon, Saiichi would slide another few documents in for her to look at. Those were quickly accumulating another small stack, one that Fuyane absolutely refused to touch and had thrown haphazardly in the opposite corner.

For the past week Fuyane had endured this routine, waiting for this day to come. And now it had arrived, she had woken up earlier than usual to make her preparations- pressing strips of her tape against the hard glass panes of her only window and a large ceramic lamp, plugged in and running electricity on the stand-by.

Fuyane stepped back from the window, satisfied with the crisscross of dull tape that marred the rays of sun that streamed through. It wasn't ordinary sticky tape. Rather, it was constructed of a Flame-conductible medium and suitably combustible, ensuring the demolition of window glass when struck with a heat source.

The large ceramic lamp, already on and glowing bright, was hoisted onto one shoulder, like a baseball bat in front of the glass. One powerful swing was all it took and Fuyane entertained the thought of her dear_, dear_ right-hand man when he surveys the destruction caused, a while after she makes her escape.

The explosion that resulted was suitably loud and quick before the flames began to form- an explosion of blue, sparking electricity and the splatter of ceramic and glass and wood and before she knew it, she was clambering over the ruined window sill with her bag over her shoulders and hurtling through the hole of fresh, smoky air to scale her way down two stories.

She could already hear a crowd forming- confusion, chaos from the mansion's current inhabitants as they seek out the source. But by the time they put two and two together, she'll be long gone.

Momentarily, she cringed at the thought of the paperwork that her actions alone would bring. Files for damage, purchase and reconstruction. She shuddered.

But then the beautiful picture of Yuni filled her mind, of laughter and gossip and stories exchanged over a plate of hot chocolate waffles and once again she was reminded of how behind schedule she was. Saiichi wouldn't be happy. The boss must always be prompt, he would tell her in his condescending tone. Not early, not late but on time.

But Yuni would forgive her- she always would, Fuyane thought as she made her way through the large expanse of restless garden, down to the main road in hopes of catching a cab, a little skip in her steps.

* * *

**_Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn_**

**_Fearing Paperwork_**

**_Chapter Two: Fuyane's Outing_**

* * *

It was the typical summer's day. At the peak of its day, the streets of Italy were bustling with life and chatter, of cars and residents and tourists as they went on about their usual routines.

At a particular open café, a young woman sat delicately musing over her sweetened tea. It was her day off today; a full day off her usual duties as a mafia boss. Upon request, she had also brought along her long-standing friend and companion- Gamma, her right-hand man who she had mentioned several times in her conversations; who Fuyane-san, in her curiosity had wanted to meet. Any friend of Yuni's was a friend of hers, the woman had insisted with such enthusiasm that Yuni had found herself difficult to say no.

Her hair hung braided today, dark against the back of her pale sundress. Patient eyes gazed over the area; pass the blonde, slicked hair of her companion; pass the wooden lattice chairs and tables and pass the waiters and customers alike to glance for a familiar figure- of large green eyes and pitch black hair.

Her older companion sat across from her, his chin resting disinterestedly upon the palm of his hand. A ringed finger tapped impatiently at the lacquered wooden surface, next to the steaming cup of coffee and used sugar packets.

"Princess." He addressed, garnering the attention of the girl. "How much longer we wait?" His blonde, slicked-back hairstyle gleamed in the sun.

"Not long. Fuyane-san has never been before." Yuni took a delicate sip of her sweetened tea and reassured him with a small smile. "Perhaps something turned up?"

He smiled back in automatic response, leaning back to sip at his cup. But just as he lifted it to his lip, Yuni's dark blue eyes brightened all of a sudden and he had to follow her gaze behind him. It landed on the figure of a tall, dark-haired woman, who stood out from the rest of the seated customers and uniformed waiters, green eyes searching.

"Fuyane-san!" Yuni called out, hand in the air to get her attention.

And get her attention, it did. Gamma could practically replay in slow motion the drama that occurred across the woman's face and actions as she turned around. Her mouth burst all of a sudden into a gaping laugh, eyes lighting up so bright as if in joy or relief or finding water after an impossibly long trek in the desert.

"Yuuuuuuuniii!"

It was loud, embarrassing and a clash of the most drawn out syllables. The undeniable whine _poured _from the- all of a sudden- running woman's open mouth, her arms held out and seemingly oblivious to the abrupt attention she had garnered. People turned heads to scowl and gossip of the woman in her Sunday casual, her long skirt and jacket trailing out behind her in her sprint. Her features- a distinct mix of Asian and Italian scrunched horribly into a dramatic, teary-eyed look that didn't at all befit her tall, adult stature. Loose, sleeved arms were held out in front of her like some overgrown bird, almost clipping the nose of an innocent bystander.

"Fuyane-san." Yuni addressed politely, smiling as the taller woman ran around the table to catch her into a fierce hug, burying her dark mussed hair into her shoulder. Yuni wrapped her arms around her, patting her back and simultaneously minding the state of her tea as the woman preceded to _whine _uncontrollably.

"I'm _so sorry Yuni_\- I was going to be on time, I swear! B-but then-" The older woman stammered out in rapid Japanese. "It's _all_ the bas- my secretary's fault-"

"It's okay, Fuyane-san." Yuni only laughed softly at Gamma's expression- an eyebrow raised questioningly, as she rubbed circles onto the woman's back.

"But Yuni…" Fuyane whined loudly, sniffling childishly into her back. "H-he locked me up- with a lot- _a lot_ of paperwork! Can you believe him? I mean- I'm his _boss_!" Her voice broke into a rather high pitched tone, attracting even more curious gazes.

Oblivious or just plain uncaring for the public attention, Gamma couldn't tell. People _stared_. A kid commented unnecessarily. Disapproved adults glanced several times, muttering, judging and shaking their heads. Just then, Fuyane had caught the eyes of a staring child and had made a face behind Yuni's back. But Gamma didn't need to know that.

So _this_ was Harukawa Fuyane. The way Yuni had talked of her had made him the tiniest bit apprehensive, afraid she may have been a spy or an assassin from the mafia, hoping to score easy with the head of Giglio Nero's boss. Very kind, fun, young and a huge enthusiast of chocolate- Yuni had described her as but from the small, subtle and contemplative glance the woman had shot his way after detaching herself reluctantly, Gamma suspected otherwise of her just-then display.

This person knew what she was doing.

"Ah, Yuni?" The tears had stopped falling, her previous whine replaced by a lower, and slightly more mature tone as she indicated curiously. "Mind introducing me?"

Yuni smiled, beckoning towards her right-hand man. "Fuyane-san, this is Gamma- my friend and colleague. And Gamma, this is Fuyane-san. Harukawa Fuyane."

"Gamma. Mind if I call you that?" Fuyane tested his name on her tongue before tilting her head childishly, a wide smile across her face. "Nice to meet you! Yuni's told me a lot about you." She held out a manicured hand in greeting that sported several rings, including a thick band that wound around her index finger.

There was a ring with a blue stone set in, the one that looked like it could be a mid-class Rain ring. Gamma brushed his eyes over it and scanned the unusual rolls of what seemed like dull-colored tape around her wrists as he took her hand. "Same here, Harukawa-san."

"Just Fuyane will do. There's no need for honorifics. Any friend of Yuni is a friend of mine." The female grinned as she withdrew her hand. "And oh, Yuni?"

She didn't miss how the man's eyes flashed cautiously towards the dark-haired girl as Fuyane draped an arm over her small shoulders. A pretty protective guy, apparently.

"You've caught yourself one looker of a guy there…" She murmured just loud enough for the man to hear, laughing at how the girl twitched under her arm, her face tinting prettily.

"Fuyane-san!" Yuni pushed the arm off her shoulders in one mortified attempt to regain her dignity.

"Kidding, kidding." Fuyane waved off her dismissal with a laugh. "Again, I apologize for my tardiness. I miscalculated."

"It's fine, we weren't waiting for too long." Yuni reassured, smiling as her friend rummaged through her bag, to withdraw two small gift wrapped chocolates. She pressed one into Yuni's smaller hands and slid another across the table to sit next to Gamma's coffee.

While Yuni accepted hers with a small thanks, exchanging it with a small bag of homemade cookies, Gamma took his more warily, voicing his thanks after watching his boss do the same.

Within minutes of meeting the stranger called Harukawa Fuyane, Gamma had discovered her to be rather _social_. She lacked the shame that most adults would have developed, or perhaps was not as ignorant as he believed and simply perfected the ability to ignore it.

As she launched into a tirade of her workplace, of her secretary from hell, of her sweet co-workers, Gamma had seemed a little uncomfortable, being one who rarely talked without a purpose. Somehow, she had kept the atmosphere light, carrying the conversations through several topics of current affairs and chocolate and her expression seemed to be a constant wide smile.

"-and there's this brilliant chocolate drenched waffle just around the corner from there- I _have_ to take you guys next time-" Fuyane had contributed to their current discussion, gulping at her second mug of hot chocolate.

All throughout, Gamma couldn't help but notice the unconditional attachment that Fuyane had to Yuni. She was clingy perhaps. Every now and then she'll hold onto Yuni's arm or lay a head on her shoulder. But Yuni didn't seem to mind much so he kept it to himself.

It was after their rather long morning tea and a small argument over the bill- Fuyane had insisted on paying, flashing a shiny card in their faces- that they were on the streets again.

"Now Yuni!" Fuyane held onto the younger woman's arm, dragging her in circles. "Where do you wanna go? Shopping? Karaoke? I told you I'll take you out today! Or…" She paused slyly, a sheepish grin over her Eurasian features. "There's a new chocolate store a few streets over and they're asking for testers- wanna go?"

"I don't mind." Yuni smiled up at the slicked-back blonde. "Gamma?"

"I'm afraid that there was a sudden call. I have some duties to attend to." He supplied with a remorseful smile. "Have fun, Princess. I'll be back late afternoon to pick you up."

"Oh. Okay then." Yuni agreed knowingly.

Gamma turned to face the other's expectant look. "It was nice meeting you, Fuyane-san."

"Same here." The dark-haired woman replied, her eyes curved as she smiled. "Let's hang out again!"

They parted, and Fuyane turned her back to both people dramatically, making sure to show off the perfected swish of her loose, casual jacket. "Let's go Yuni!" She yelled out, louder than was necessary, before dragging the girl not-so-gently along behind her.

And Gamma began to regret leaving Yuni in her care.

"Slow down Fuyane-san!" Yuni laughed, pacing up to walk comfortably beside her.

Fuyane only smiled fondly, swinging their joined hands up and down.

…

A few towns away, in the shaded shelters of some alley, a man fell hard onto asphalt and coughed blood.

"Kufufu…" A tall figure that stood over him and blocked the little dispersed sunlight available. "Weak."

"W-what do you want?" The injured man tried to stand futilely, only to be kicked back down. Over and over, his efforts were discarded, almost in jest, the perpetrator waiting for just the right moment each time to break his victim with a dark chuckle. At last, seemingly bored, a shoe slammed into his fingers-fingers that gave out and cracked like little twigs. The man screamed.

"Where is your boss?" Rokudo Mukuro demanded, his red eye glinting in the darkness. A gloved hand gripped loosely upon the metallic trident, stabbing it into the ground, inches away from the man's face. A thin line tore down one cheek.

"N-not t-telling-" The man scowled through his pain, his greasy hair limp over his face. "I'll die before I betray my Family!"

Mismatched eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh?" The Vongola Mist Guardian pushed the pointed end of his trident ever so gently against the man's throat. Enough to leave a trickle of red. "How loyal a subordinate. Just how far are you willing to push that false bravado?

"Y-you-"

"Kufufu…" His red eye flickered into the Japanese kanji for one.

The man's screams and howls were never heard; no matter how loud or how ear-piercingly sweet. Such was the prowess of the Vongola's Mist Guardian. Though the man in question despised that title.

…

"Yuni!" Fuyane called out cheerfully, a smile over her Eurasian features as she skipped down the busy streets. "Yuni, Yuni, Yuni…"

"What is it, Fuyane-san?" The blue-haired girl sighed, reaching over to tug the dark-haired woman away from the roads. A car honked at them.

"I like your name, Yuni." The dark-haired woman replied giddily, almost bumping into the other woman in her haste to hold Yuni's arm.

"I like your name too." Yuni replied, smiling as Fuyane laughed out loud.

"No, you seriously do _not_ want to like my name." She chastised, poking the tip of her nose.

The dark-haired woman giggled. "Why is that?"

"The 'fu' in my name is the japanese kanji for wind." Fuyane frowned, pressing her thumb to her bottom lip. "And 'yane' literally means roof- I mean who names their child 'wind-roof'? It doesn't even make sense!"

She threw her free hand into the air, almost shoving her fingers up someone's nose behind her.

"Fuyane-san. Please be careful." Yuni reprimanded beside her, after apologising.

"Sorry, Yuni. I think I might have had a bit too much chocolate." Fuyane confessed with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of her dark hair which was let down today. "I must be acting really weird… I'm not usually this hard to deal with."

"No, no it's fine." Yuni reassured, reaching for her hand. "You wouldn't be Fuyane-san if you weren't like this."

"How mean!" The other sniffed haughtily, snatching her hand away in mock offense. "Are you saying I'm hard to deal with?"

"Well… if you put it like that…" The younger woman trailed off for a moment, looking away deliberately.

"Yuni." Fuyane whined and together, they laughed.

"By the way…" She drew Yuni closer to mutter over the noise of busy streets and traffic. "Why did your boyfriend leave? I thought he'll be staying the entire day?"

"Fuyane-san! Gamma isn't my boyfriend." Yuni chastised quietly. "And a sudden call isn't unusual- he's quite a busy person."

Fuyane glanced at her friend with a concerned frown. She wasn't sure but Yuni seemed… a little distracted. She didn't like it.

"Awww…" She sighed dramatically, waving her arms about. "I know! Let's go get some sushi- I know a great place somewhere a few towns over. Come one, we can take a cab!" She decided, signalling a taxi with her free hand.

"But, Fuyane-san. We just ate not too long ago-"

"It's completely okay!"

…

Rokudo Mukuro looked down upon his unconscious victim, eyes narrowing as he gave the still body an uncaring kick. His phone rang once. Twice. Three times-

"Kufufu…" He chuckled, holding the phone loosely to his lips. "Chrome?"

"Mukuro-sama? Where are you?" Came the worried tone of the soft-spoken female.

"Return to the mansion first. I'll finish this myself." He ordered quietly, narrowing his eyes as he sensed again, that very same presence. It was the same presence that had been trailing him for the past two days- the presence of another… quite skilled mist-user.

There was a pause. "Yes, Mukuro-sama."

He hung up, tucking the device slowly back into his coat. In the shadows of the alley, he glanced carelessly at the body, his single red eye gleaming.

"The _La Serratura D'argento_ huh?" He voiced to himself. "Kufufu… how pathetic."

As he stood there, waiting, _feeling_, the presence disappeared completely. "Pathetic." He repeated and he continued on to step over the fallen body, chuckling darkly.

…

They hadn't ended up going to that sushi place after all. Fuyane had changed her mind abruptly after their arrival, declaring instead, to raid the grand shopping mall in the precinct.

The dark-haired woman didn't actually buy much for herself, preferring instead to shop brashly, buying little things for Yuni as she pulled her through the individual stores.

"Ah, Fuyane-san you don't have to-" Yuni tried to protest, to reason with the childish woman pacing up to the counter to purchase yet another little trinket.

"Don't worry Yuni- it's not really my money anyways." Fuyane let slip a little white lie with ease, sliding up to the counter. "I would like this please-" She smiled sweetly at the cashier lady, fumbling out her wallet.

"Fuyane-san!" Yuni chastised beside her, trying to reason with the woman. "You shouldn't spend so much on me-"

"Here you go." The older woman interrupted, shoving yet another shopping bag into her arms. "You like the hairpin right?"

Yuni sighed in defeat, reaching into the bag to bring out a lovely blue hairpin, its glossed exterior decorated with a large orange-tinted lily. "Thank you Fuyane-san." She smiled. "It's beautiful."

Exiting the mall, Fuyane immediately led her friend across the street, telling her cheerily about another shop along the street a few turns down from where they were, which, apparently, sold the best green tea cakes.

"You know my secretary? He actually dislikes sweets and cakes yet he'll still make his way all the way down here just for these." She explained as she made her purchase, cradling the box of cakes with care as she looked for a place to eat.

"Really?" Yuni questioned in interest as they sat down, forking a tiny bite to her lips. "Mhmm, these are really good!" She exclaimed quietly in agreement.

Fuyane only smiled at her as she ate, with curved eyes and the kind of rare fondness. "I told you. Didn't I?"

…

It was only a little while later that a hesitant Fuyane excused herself to the toilets.

Trudging quickly to the nearest facility, an arm subtly pressed against her lower stomach, Fuyane grimaced inwardly at two men huddled at the entrance of the men's toilets in black suit, tie and shades. The difference in height was quite astounding, with the shorter, slightly pudgier man reaching only to the shoulders of the taller.

Both were hunched awfully suspiciously, obliviously arguing in hushed whispers. Obvious bulges stood out from their suit pockets, their shady appearance alone fulfilling any mafia stereotype there was.

It was one thing that Fuyane was dead sure about. Those men were in the mafia. Any respectable person underground would have been able to tell. Whose underlings were they? Fuyane was sure glad that they weren't hers. She shook her head and kept walking.

They were still there when she came out, arguing amongst themselves. Curious, she craned an ear in and was disbelievingly surprised when she heard the words, 'pipsqueak', 'boss' and 'won't be happy'. The taller one spat and the other promptly took off his shades.

Since the Otaria was such a small organisation, Fuyane knew personally almost every person who worked under her. Upon instant recognition, she would have slammed a palm to her face if she didn't have a full-time job as a dignified mafia boss to play. The two men weren't just any wandering bunch of underlings. They were _hers_ and she really needed to have a talk with them about the art of subtlety.

"Woman! What do you want?" The taller one of them barked as soon as she approached, using his height as if to tower her into submission. His face leered horribly, followed by a breath stench of cigarettes so strong that she had to angle her face as to not receive it square in the nose. Fuyane, herself, didn't smoke.

But as she looked down on him, with the sort of distasteful expression that would have made Saiichi proud, she realised that the man in front of her didn't recognise her as his boss. Fuyane didn't blame him. After all, they've probably never seen their boss in casual before- always in dress shirt and pants and a messy braid. On the other hand, his shorter companion- Guido, she remembered- took only a short moment to connect the woman in front of him to the one in his memory.

"Boss." He acknowledged softly, dipping his head in respect.

"Guido." She turned to face him, a grin across her face. "It's nice to be recognised."

"How can I not?" He replied, a hand on his partner's shoulder. "Although, you'll have to excuse my partner. He's still quite new."

Fuyane laughed shortly before turning her full gaze to the taller man. "It's okay. I understand."

"Boss?" The poor man seemed so utterly confused turning his head back and forth, from his superior in the organisation to the woman in her pale coloured choices of feminine clothing who, for some reason, was being addressed as 'Boss'. He took off his shades and squinted, focusing before it hit him abruptly and his eyes widened in recognition. "B-boss! Why are you-? I thought-" He stuttered at her smile, a complete one eighty turn from his previous persona. The other spoke with more dignity, having been more familiar with the Otaria Secondo.

"But why is the boss here? Sai-san will be most displeased." Guido looked up at her, knowing that the boss preferred eye-contact when conversing.

"_You're_ patronising _me_?" She quipped dryly, allowing the authority into her voice. After all, she was their boss. She was allowed to kick them around.

But Guido neither cowered in fear, like she inwardly wanted him too, nor talked back. He had been with his boss for far too long to be intimidated like this. He gave a short, almost exasperated sigh, something that she knew he had gotten off her right-hand himself. His companion on the other hand was not quite composed, being young and inexperienced to the Otaria's workings and having only ever met the boss personally two times. He was a strong believer in gossip and rumours and the Secondo's reputation had been all he had heard about since joining a couple of months ago.

"And, you." Fuyane scowled, green eyes flashing to the obviously intimidated man. "What's your name?"

The tall man squeaked. Squeaked. And Fuyane resisted a snort of laughter. Guido caught her eye and sighed knowingly.

"Aldo, Boss!" He managed out, eyes looking anywhere but at her composed green eyes.

Fuyane resisted a sigh at his helplessness.

"Look at me." She ordered with a steady voice and smiled reassuringly when he jerkily caught her eye. "What were you two doing?"

It was a simple question of five words yet the poor man stumbled to spew out all he knew. Fuyane didn't even have to try. The interrogation was over in a matter of minutes.

Originally, the two men had been part of the squad of five that she had sent with Clarif, to investigate the rumours of a newly developed type of drug, both appealingly addictive and dangerously deadly. Two days ago, there was a confrontation with the _Minnacia Famiglia_ who violently displayed their displeasure at having other, unallied _mafioso_ snooping around on their territories. In the midst of confusion of causalities, Clarif seemingly ran off and that it was only one full day later that he resumed communications, texting a request for information assistance from Guido who, being fond of the little boy, lent out his assistance in a heartbeat.

That boy was tracking someone down, Guido informed Fuyane, not at all afraid of the consequences of all that he had confessed. He had been around her far too long, long enough to know that usually, the scarier person tended to be her right hand man. Fuyane in contrast was actually quite lenient, as long as no lasting damage was done and that there was at least a reason for the actions.

Aldo, on the other hand glanced at his companion, quite horrified at his blunt confession and apologised profusely.

Fuyane let out an actual sigh. "Stop apologising, Aldo. I never gave out any orders for you to disobey, other than to assist Clarif on his mission."

He opened his mouth, as if to splutter more nonsense.

"Yes. That pipsqueak." She cut him off. The thought of Yuni sitting alone prompted her to finish quickly. "I want his location."

Aldo looked up with wide eyes that shifted slightly to his partner as if he didn't know what to say or do. Thankfully for both of them, Guido came to his rescue.

"As of a few minutes ago, little Clarif told us he was on his way to the _La Serratura D'argento." _He spoke slowly, dawdling even.

Fuyane hid a smile. It was just like Guido to challenge her in the subtlest of ways. But the _La Serratura D'argento… _she contemplated silently. It was one of the grandest hotel and casino in the area a few towns away- high-class with a formal dress-code. It was owned by the mafia of course- by the _Chiave D'oro Famiglia_ whose boss was, apparently, a well and respectful man in his late forties, as Saiichi once informed her. If she wanted to chase down that little brat, she would need a slightly more formal garb.

"Strip please." She requested with a smile, gesturing down to her own set of clothing. "I will need something slightly more formal. A suit jacket and tie perhaps?"

Guido sighed, and to the stiffness of his partner, began undoing the buttons to his suit. "I have a spare shirt in my suitcase. You may borrow that as well." He informed before handing the required materials to his boss's waiting hands.

"Thanks Guido, Aldo." She smiled at the two of them. "Head straight back to the mansion and take the rest of the week off." She began to turn her back with a dramatic flourish, only to pause and warn with the same expression, focusing on the shorter of the two men. She paused slightly as if she didn't know how to word her request. "Inform Saiichi of my whereabouts and someone's salary will be cut. Understood?"

"Crystal, Boss." Guido resisted rolling his eyes. His boss always did love to threaten their pay with a smile. It usually solved the problems and inner conflicts because everyone with a good half a year or so with his boss, knew just how easily and gleefully their boss would do it, under her usual calm, smiling façade. It was usually the less experienced and more stupid of the lot who got their salaries cut so low that working at a fast-food joint would have raked in more cash.

As their boss turned her back on them, Guido sighed again. His boss was unimpressive a good majority of the time- something that he found out a month or two after working with her personally. Sometimes, he wondered just how much his respect was for her that urged him to stay.

…

Fuyane hurriedly back to Yuni right after- sweet, concerned Yuni who had worried over how long it had taken Fuyane to go to the toilet.

"I got lost." She giggled easily, part of her sad to lie to one of her most trusted people. Yuni accepted it with another concerned look and Fuyane had to grin stupidly like she always did.

It was late afternoon when Gamma drove by with a sleek, black car- the kind with tinted automatic windows- to pick Yuni up. Fuyane bid a reluctant farewell and after assuring that she didn't need a ride home, she signalled a taxi.

"To the _La Serratura D'argento_." She requested, ignoring the wide eyes of the taxi driver when she began to change in the back seat. It didn't matter to her- she had an undershirt which she kept, swapping her feminine blouse for the dress shirt and hastily buttoning up the black suit jacket before throwing on the tie.

Slender fingers skimmed over the touch pad of her phone to send a message- a hurried text to her dear right-hand, sprinkled with smiles and apologies and cheeky wording telling him not to worry too much and that she wouldn't be back for dinner because she had a kid to catch.

The car stopped, parked at the guest parking. "Miss. Your stop."

…

Clarif had always been a spontaneous brat, short for his age and blonde, ever since he had joined the Otaria at the age of nine. A brat he may be, but even Fuyane acknowledged that the brat was a genius, a prodigy when he put his mind to it. Being naturally gifted with a strong, pure Mist flame, it hadn't taken long for the Otaria to coax it out of him and before long, he was mastering the concepts of illusions and stealth, pranking people left and right. Fuyane, unfortunately, was one of his more frequent victims.

Taken forcibly from his civilian life, Clarif despised them. They had taken him in, reluctant and screaming and made him work. Quickly, he rose up the ranks and was thankfully finally obedient after a good year or so, carrying out his assigned missions and whatnot. Although the word 'obedient' for him consisted of the bare minimum that needed to be carried out. His ability in finding loopholes was astounding.

Genius, he was, but still a brat. Stubborn, proud and full of himself, but never did him do things without reason. Fuyane mulled over her thoughts and looked up. So what reason would he have to come here, to this rich place? Never once, did she doubt the truth of her subordinates.

The _La Serratura D'argento_ towered over her in all its majesty of velvet and glassy chandeliers, just beyond the several steps of red elegance. The previous marble statues that had adorned its exterior were gone now, replaced by a more suitable summer selection. Finely trimmed hedges framed the view and if Fuyane had not already visited once, she would have had her jaw dropped. The accommodations were also superb, as was the management of its casino.

She checked her attire. Suit jacket and tie for the top, complemented by the plain, long skirt and sandals. Semi-formal. But it was enough.

She took her first step up the grand, red steps and almost immediately, it was confirmed that Clarif had indeed been there. Her skin prickled in paranoia and she noticed it- a thin film of mist. She could see nothing except maybe the slightest waver in the air with the same consistency. Yet as a frequent victim to illusionist pranks she could almost sense it- the same paranoia that usually accompanied these experiences. She paused, frozen and looked up.

And a massive axe hurtled down upon her, in a sick image of some guillotine that she had inadvertently walked into. Taken by surprise, she didn't even have time to squeak, stepping backwards with a honed dodge. Moments after she stepped back and the heavy blade smashing into mist at her feet, the carpeted floor at her back foot became a pit of live, writhing snakes that strangled rapidly up her leg and under her skirt.

It was a trap that she was well familiar with and instinctively she kicked them off, throwing herself away from the illusion not without earning herself more than a few curious looks. Not even a moment's notice later, a steel cage fell upon her, trapping her on all four sides. Then all was still.

One moment's silence. Two moment's silence. Fuyane took a small breath, eyes closed and reached with both palms to touch a cold, unyielding bar. The illusion was well-imagined and well-constructed, intangible yet its touch was solidly real. Clarif really was amazing, she thought somewhat reluctantly and her expression melded into one that an outsider would call a mixture of pride and awe- something that she would deny because no matter how much of a genius the boy was, he was a brat first and foremost.

She regulated her breathing, her ring glowing as Rain was channelled out in a dark, impure cloud to tranquilise the Mist flames at work. Eyes still closed, fingers curled gently over the cold, solid illusion, she imagined its disappearance, channelling it into the calmness that she was so familiar with whenever she called on the use of her Flames. It was after a while that it bent to her will, the illusion disintegrating under her touch and when she opened her eyes, it became nothing more than fading wavers of purple mist.

Only Clarif would have such awful tastes. She thought dryly as she made her way up the stairs, much more wary than before. Still, she wondered who those traps- so intricately set and thought out- were for. For one it had to be a capable person with at least a mediocre degree of sense. After all, the first trap was sprung by a person's notice. The second trap was hidden in anticipation of the person's dodge and the third topped off as the icing to the cake.

It had been a while since Clarif was this focused in his pranks.

Fuyane sighed- a fond sigh- before fixing her loose hairs back into place, the silver of her rings glinting orange in the setting sun. Now, she was really curious about what Clarif was doing in this area. After all, the illusionist must be within a certain radius in order to maintain their illusionary traps.

…

"Please excuse me."

Amongst the elegant grandeur of high-class champagne and men in suits with women in red high heels, the Otaria mafia boss made her way past the boisterous laughter of gambling people, past the finely dressed people dealing out the cards and crossed under the large jewelled chandelier dangling in the middle of the carpeted space.

"Sorry, please excuse me." was what she kept muttering under her breath as she gently pushed away members of the crowd, her head high like the graceful and confident persona she was trying to present. People stared and gossiped over her too-casual attire, yet no one dared to point out her lack of sophistication in appearance, not when her posture and aura by themselves radiated enough to warn people away.

Fuyane didn't care as she tried to gently push pass a group of well dressed women, with long skirts and jewelled fingers. Her eyes swept across the room with a calm demeanour created as a result of intense concentration.

Clarif was here. And she was definitely going to pick out his illusions, no matter how much of a genius he thought he was. A kid was still a kid. And she was definitely not going to be outsmarted by a kid.

Her narrowing eyes roamed the area, forcing herself to believe in something different to what she was seeing, looking for that slight hazy ripple in the air- that tell-tale sign that Mist Flames were at work. She saw everything, taking in the background details as well as the foreground ones, her eyes drifting upon a slender and somewhat charming man in the midst of the ladies-

_There._

A finger tapped delicately at her shoulders. "Excuse me, Miss?"

"What is it?" Her voice came out harsher than it was supposed to and immediately, she softened it with one of her full smiles as she turned around.

It was a woman- a very pretty woman, Fuyane noted shallowly- with long blonde hair and clear blue eyes.

"Nothing much," The unnamed woman simpered. "I just can't help but notice that you seem different from everyone here…"

"Thank you. You seem very different as well." The Otaria boss smiled back politely, but on the inside, she was biting the side of her mouth in slight frustration, her green eyes darting to the sides. Her target was moving. "Well, I must go-" She tried to excuse herself but to no avail.

The blonde narrowed her pretty eyes ever so slightly. "You seem to be mistaking my meaning quite a bit. Here Miss. Let me reword it-"

"I'm sorry, but I _really_ must go." Fuyane interrupted her hurriedly. Her target was disappearing into another crowd of people. "Thank you for your kind words, Miss. I bid you a good night."

Without receiving a response, she tore herself away from the pretty lady's company pacing hurriedly over some polished steps and down the winding staircase, pushing pass people with more force than she would have used and muttering her regards.

"Excuse me sir."

"Sorry. Allow me through."

"Can you move please?" Her last mutter came out a little more offensive than she would have liked but it worked all the same as a bumbling man moved out of his way for her.

Her steps slowed down as she caught sight of her target- the tall man in the immaculately pressed suit and indigo tie. Dark hair flowed long, dipping charmingly into his eyes, the rest pulled back into a low, long ponytail. His posture was picture perfect as he leaned casually over the railings of the stone balcony, as if to admire the scenery of empty streets and dim dank lamplights.

Her steps stopped where the carpet melded into stone tiles, eyes focused on nothing else but the stranger in her view. There was no doubt that he was under the finest illusion- a deduction made from her frequent experiences as Clarif's guinea pig. Yet this illusion was not Clarif. Fuyane knew that- knew from his posture and regal, mature presentation. Clarif may be a genius, but even more so, he was a child. His imagination and his tastes were immature and unsightly, appealing, perhaps, to the eyes of young boys but far removed from the adult's perspective.

Yet undoubtedly, she knew this man was in the mafia. After all, only the mafia retained the knowledge of dying will flames and for such skill, he must have been quite the higher ranked of some Mafia Family. Or perhaps a soloist, an assassin, hitman even?

About to take her leave, she paused. Curiosity overtook her and she stayed for just a minute longer, her gaze fixed and unwavering. Questions drifted into her mind. _What is he waiting for?_

Though she must have overstayed her gaze. As if feeling the weight of her stare, the man turned abruptly. Dark eyes clashed with hers and her heart rate spiked at that particular moment, in surprise or fear she didn't know. But that spike neither registered across her face, nor in her actions as she honed in on his fine features with an appreciative tilt of her lips.

She took her chance, stepping carefully out onto the stone balcony. "Hello." She called out, applying the standard smooth tone that she often relied on in her duties. "Mind if I join?"

His lips tilted charmingly. "Not at all. Feel free."

She imitated his posture, leaning against the railings to search at what the man had been staring at moments before. For a while, there was only the wind and the chorus of chatter and frenzy of the casinos behind them. The sun had long set.

"I've noticed." She began lightly, eyes darting to fixate on the side of his head. "You've been out here for a while. I don't suppose you're waiting for anything, are you?"

"Perhaps." He didn't even look at her. "Is there any particular reason why you would be asking?"

"Curiosity." She stated and grinned.

He paused to turn his head and their gazes met. "Curiosity can be a dangerous thing." He told her, quite smoothly in that same suave tone.

Fuyane laughed, light and loud in the night air. "I've been told."

"Would that also be the reason you would be observing me so intently a few minutes ago?"

Her expression didn't falter. "I appreciate things." She told him, quite honestly.

He chuckled strangely in response. "I'm flattered."

She smiled at him again, conscious of the illusion that hung upon him, conscious of the knowledge that this was no kid genius of hers, but a stranger of the mafia. She had no more business here.

"Fuyane." She said firmly, holding out a hand. "My name is Fuyane. May I know the name of the handsome stranger who stands before me?" The woman made eye-contact, unashamedly reciting a line she had read somewhere in a dramatized act of a high-class lady.

After seemingly a moment of consideration, he took her slender hand into a loose handshake, one that she tightened.

"Kufufu…" He chuckled eerily again at her. "I don't give out my name so easily."

"Not even an alias?" She frowned slightly as she retracted her hand "You make yourself out to be quite the suspicious person, Stranger."

"Ah, but you would have known already." He smirked.

"True." She agreed reluctantly before glancing at the time. "It's getting late. I'd best be going- though it was nice talking with you." She turned her back on him, her loose suit jacket unfurling slightly with the momentum of her spin. "I bid you a good night." She concluded the exchange with a small wave as she stepped back into the casino.

"Kufufu…" It was that chuckle again, the one that sent slight goose-bumps creeping over her skin. "I bid you the same, _Fuyane._"

The unfairness of not knowing the other's name irritated her as she took her leave, navigating through the crowds of finely dressed men and women. So in the end, she took the wrong lead. Yet Clarif was undeniably within reach and with some luck, she should be able to find him before the night's end.

But the rest of the night proved futile. Either Clarif was actively avoiding her, or she had missed him completely. After snagging a quick dinner, she had combed through the entire hotel and its associated casinos, even walking the length of the long elegant corridors and its rows of cream coloured doors.

Slightly defeated, she proceeded to register at the hotel, claiming the cheapest room as hers. It was late when she finally curled herself tightly into the covers of the well-made bed, and sleep fell only moments later.

…

She woke up abruptly to a loud explosion of some sort.

Fuyane jerked up, fumbling the lights with weary movements before realising her surroundings. Patiently, her vision cleared. It was still one in the morning and at this, she grumbled, debating whether or not she should step up to investigate the unusual noise. Her sleepiness won over and she threw herself back into the warmth of her covers in hopes of falling back asleep.

But then there were other noises. Muffled voices and the unintentional slams of doors as residents stepped out to sate their curiosity. Then the mutterings began, each person asking their neighbours of such things until, some security, Fuyane assumed, came to calm the occupants down.

To her, it seemed to have taken forever until the voices finally died down to the calming buzz of silence and the doors slammed permanently shut. Tossing and turning, Fuyane tried to sleep again yet the more she tried, the more restless she became. It was a usual thing. Ultimately she would have been unable to sleep, usually lying in bed to gaze wide-eyed at the ceiling or getting up out of boredom to find other methods of entertainment.

Fuyane sighed in defeat as she sat on the edge of her bed, the lights turned on. There was simply no point in sleeping anymore.

"Maybe I'll take a little walk outside…" She spoke aloud as she languidly threw on her clothes.

…

The corridor wasn't as empty as she thought it would be as she paced up, down and around the hotel floor, scuffing her bare feet upon the beige carpet.

"Ah." She murmured as she turned a corner only spot another person walking down the hallway- a familiar looking person with a mop of dark brown hair. "It's you again."

"Oh?" The man looked at her with a small tilt of his lips. "Well if it isn't Fuyane."

"Stranger." She greeted with a mocking lilt, straightening up the tiniest bit. "Do you have a room on this floor?"

"No, I happen to be looking for a… _friend_ of mine." He smiled charmingly. "Is there a reason why you're up this late?"

"Couldn't sleep." Fuyane spoke with undisguised resentment in her voice.

"I see." He nodded knowingly. "Well, I'll be on my way now." He spoke smoothly as he passed her with another one of his dark chuckles.

Fuyane only narrowed her eyes at his back. For some reason, he didn't seem like the man she had met only hours before. In fact, she would say that he seemed a tiny bit more tired, a little more hunched over, a little more messed up- something that not even his pristine suit and appearance could conceal- almost like he was favouring one shoulder-

"Stop." She demanded at his back.

"Kufufu…" The man turned slowly. "Did you need something else, Fuyane?"

"You're injured." She stated bluntly, resisting the urge to point. It wasn't even a question. She had absolute faith in her deductions.

"Injured?" The man arranged his features into a confused look as he flexed his limbs slowly. "Do I look injured? I'm sorry, I'm afraid you might be mistaken."

"I've heard illusionists have low pain tolerance." Fuyane gave him a calm neutral smile, speaking causally as if there were no implication within her words.

His eyes narrowed slightly, before chuckling strangely in amusement as if she had just told the most amazing joke. "I'm afraid I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about."

"I have a room on this floor." She continued, beginning to walk to her door. "Would you like to come in?"

"Oh? How very forward." It was that mocking tone again. "But I must decline for I am a very busy individual-"

She clamped a hand over the man's thin wrist, channelling just the slightest hint of rain flames through her ring. "I insist." She held his cool wrist in a firm grip, dragging him towards her door, her other hand fumbling out her room card.

"Just for a little while then." The man finally conceded, chuckling that strange combination of syllables that Fuyane has come to realise as his trademark laugh.

"I want you in the bathroom." She told him as soon as she pushed him into her hotel room, locking the door carefully behind her.

"Now, Fuyane, have your parents never warned you about the young women who invite strangers into their rooms?" He spoke loosely, hanging around the side of her bed.

"No. What about it?" She asked curiously as she searched through her bag for the first aid kit that she always carried around. "And I told you. Get in the bathroom." She demanded in a huff once she realised he wasn't following her orders.

He didn't move, his gaze wary.

"Who are you?" He demanded, in that smooth low voice.

"I could ask you the same." She shot back, unfazed, legs tensed to dodge if he happened to attack. "Please drop the illusion."

They gauged each other's movements, Fuyane walking deliberately slowly towards him, hands held up. "I am only but a poor defenceless woman wishing only to treat wounds of the handsome stranger I have taken a fancy to." She smiled heartbreakingly, the perfect actress, not at all ashamed of her words.

The man smirked, as if humoured, as she bravely walked up to him, ushering him into the adjoining bathroom. She turned around to close the bathroom door. "And I told you. Please drop the illusion."

"I did."

"No you didn't-" Fuyane turned around only to resist a flinch when she saw a completely different person sitting on the toilet seat. "Oh. So you did." She muttered distractedly, trying hard not to stare and instead dug her way into the first-aid kit.

The man smirked at her, mismatched eyes following her actions. "It alright to stare, you know?"

"The only things I'll be staring at are your _bloody_ wounds." She hissed empathetically, trying hard not to glance a second time at his dark, uniquely styled hair or the contrast of his, one smouldering blue and the other undeniably red, eyes and instead focused on the darkest parts of his outfit that was unquestionably _caked _in blood. "Strip." She ordered, stepping back.

"Excuse me?"

Fuyane wanted to laugh at his expression. "You heard me. I'll turn away. It's just your top anyway." She turned to face the door, listening closely to the thuds of clothes piling on the floor- listening out for any suspicious silences or the metallic sounds of an unsheathing blade just in case he decided to attack her or run away.

"I'm done." It was curious to note that his voice hadn't changed. It was still that deep, mocking tenor that made her want to rub her ears.

She turned around and almost face palmed. She didn't pay attention to the little and large white and faded scars that littered the man's torso, nor the cuts and bruises. Instead, her attention was drawn to the unmistakable _bullet wound_ on the man's right shoulder, the gaping hole clotted over with fresh and dried blood.

"Just how _high _is your pain tolerance? I'm sorry, Stranger. I'll take back my earlier words." She muttered in undisguised wonder, resisting the urge to poke and prod. "_Cool…_" She accidentally breathed out in her first language.

The man picked it up. "You speak Japanese?" He questioned in pure, unaccented Japanese.

"You speak it too?" Fuyane asked back smoothly, raising a thin eyebrow as she carefully disinfected the wound, wiping off the smeared blood and ignoring the hiss of pain that came with it. "Wow. I'm surprised. You don't look it at all and yet your Japanese is flawless."

He snorted. "You don't look Japanese either."

"I'm half." Fuyane continued to wipe off the blood with a rag dipped in warm water, careful not to get any on herself. "I've lived half my life in Japan before coming here."

"I see." The man muttered disinterestedly, glancing at her handiwork.

"My secretary is fully Japanese though." She continued, wincing sympathetically at his wounds. "He's really proud of his heritage- oh and_ please_ tell me you've removed the bullet."

"It went out the other side." He smirked, faltering slightly when she thrust a cylindrical, neon-green container in his face. "What is this?"

"It's cream." She rolled her eyes, like how a child would when adults didn't understand them. "For cuts and bruises. It doubles up as disinfectant. It's pretty effective- see?" She unscrewed the lid, dabbing some of the green cream on her arm. "No poison."

The man took it sceptically before experimentally dabbing some on a bruise.

"Don't dab too much on one spot." Fuyane advised shortly after cleaning and disinfecting his shoulder on the other side. "Your skin will tinge green if you do."

He stopped applying immediately.

"Hey, don't stop dabbing." She burst out indignantly, trying to contain the whine in her voice. "It's completely harmless. The green is actually just a little bit of dye. It smells nice as well- like limes." She added unnecessarily.

He looked at her weirdly.

"Well. Sorry for customising my stuff." Fuyane mumbled dejectedly as she continued to bandage his shoulder wound with long strips of white cloth, brightening up when the man continued to apply the cream but in noticeably much smaller amounts.

She smiled. "So do I get the honour of knowing your name now?"

That same strange chuckle fell from his lips. "If you're that desperate, you can go find out yourself, _Fuyane_."

"Desperate? How rude." Fuyane shot back, quite good-naturedly as she tied the knot, resisting the urge to dig out her marker and draw on the white bandage. "And I'm done by the way- you can redress yourself."

"I suppose I'm now in your debt?" He stood up and poked his bandaged wound.

"Unless you want to be."

He didn't answer her, only chuckling strangely and then he was off. She only blinked and the next moment he was gone, leaving behind a pile of mist that swept at her feet.

* * *

**Extra:**

"You. Gave your real name to a complete stranger." Saiichi voiced in disbelief, looking as if he would turn around that very moment to bash his face into the wall in embarrassment of his very incompetent boss. But he didn't because he was Saiichi, and Saiichi didn't do these pathetic acts.

"I was planning for the future! The future!" Fuyane argued indignantly, childishly. "I was making an acquaintance!"

"And you willingly locked yourself in with said complete stranger and forcefully dressed his wounds, even after realising how dangerous that was and how easily you could have been murdered in your own hotel room."

Fuyane froze. Typical of Saiichi to bring out the case in the worst possible fashion against her. "Are you calling me stupid?"

Saiichi shot her his own version of a deadpanned look. Fuyane lamented, curled up on her chair, in a posture looking very much like a chid scolded by her mother.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Although chapter updates will be slow, I would really like to hear about your thoughts on this!**


End file.
